


Misunderstandings

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5042521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regan jumps to conclusions ... and confronts Alistair as a result.  How badly can she damage whatever relationship they have? </p>
<p>Also, some new faces show up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstandings

“There is _one month_ until the wedding, Dairren … and you’re just _now_ asking me to come up with songs for your DJ?  Are you _insane_?”  Regan pressed her fingertips into the corners of her eyes and tried to reign in her temper.  It wasn’t necessarily _his_ fault that he’d waited until almost the last minute.  Maybe Iona decided to delegate this chore all of a sudden.  Of course, the repeated thumping coming from the far wall wasn’t helping.  

“One month, one week, and three days … to be exact … and not _all_ the songs, RC.  Iona’s already given them some … a _long_ list, actually.  I just want some … less traditional and trendy songs; you know, stuff _we_ like.”  He gave her a minute to interrupt, and when she didn’t, he brought up the plans for the last part of the reception.  “The DJs will also be doing karaoke after the kids and old folks leave, so you don’t have to come up with a lot.”

“Karaoke?  At your reception?”  Regan stared at her phone in disbelief.  Another several thumps, like a headboard hitting the wall, echoed through her apartment and her free hand clenched into a tight fist.  Could he _really_ be doing _that_ … with her here … with everything they’d ….  He’d never mentioned having a girlfriend, had he?   She struggled to pull her attention back to her phone call.  “I thought your fiancé wanted _traditional_ ; karaoke doesn’t sound terribly traditional, D.”  

“It’s called compromise, RC.”  Dairren couldn’t stop the teasing tone in his voice, despite the fact that he knew she was already in a bad mood.  “She’s letting me pick out the fun stuff for after her family leaves; none of them will stay late enough to get to the good part.”  He could hear muffled banging over the phone and couldn’t help but ask.  “Are you hitting something over there?  What’s that noise?”

She stifled a snarl as the guilty parties added moaning to the equation.  She just barely resisted the urge to bang her head against her own wall and sighed.  “ _Someone_ has decided I needed auditory porn, I guess.”  She dragged her hand over her face and _tried_ to focus on the conversation at hand.  “You are _seriously_ pushing your best friend status here, D.  It’s bad enough Iona sent me an email this morning telling me I need to be prepared to _dance_ ; you better not be expecting me to _sing_ too.”

“You only have to sing if you want.  And it’s not that suicide karaoke thing … though it _is_ run by the same two women.  Vaughan insisted, and since we’ve already made the deposit, I’m not cancelling them.”

“He probably wanted to try and hit on them.”  She paused before adding, “… or hit them.”

“Have you spoken to him … or Oswyn?”

“Vaughan, no; he tried calling once or twice before the paperwork was processed, but I haven’t seen or heard from him since I was notified that he was served.”  She was relieved he seemed to be taking the restraining order seriously.  Of course, she went out even less often now, and _never_ without either Alistair or Jasper.  And judging by the sounds coming from the direction of his bedroom wall, it seemed like her choice of companions would soon be one fewer.  Regan tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach at the idea that Alistair might have found someone.  She tried to tell herself it was just the fact that their Friday ritual would likely end, but she didn’t quite believe it.

“Oswyn feels horrible about what happened.  Please don’t hold it against him.”  Dairren couldn’t quite tell what was going on on the other end of the phone.  All he knew was that she was suddenly not answering.  “Regan, please tell me you’re not really mad at Oswyn … please?”

“What?” She pulled her attention back to the call and sighed.  She couldn’t spend the day like this.  She had to go over and ask … tell him to keep it down.  Why hadn’t he told her he was dating someone?  Why had he not given her any indication that he was unavailable?  He had led her on!  That’s it.  He was toying with her.  She needed to give him a piece of her mind.  “No, I’m not mad at Oswyn anymore.  He and I hashed it out.  Don’t worry; your wedding party is safe … or, as safe as it can be when I have _no clue who I’m paired with_.”  The thumps and moans started again, picked up the pace and the volume.  “Listen, D.  I … have to go.  I’ll call you as soon as I have a list ready.”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer, flicking her thumb against the button to end the call.  “Jasper, c’mon.”  She called her mabari over, grabbed her keys, and left the apartment, heading over to the so-familiar door.  Maker, she would miss this.  Why hadn’t he just _told_ her?  Why had he made her think he actually might like her?  All those quiet comments, things he’d tried to cover up or deflect with humor … had it all been just a game?  She balled her hand into a fist and pounded on his door.  “Alistair!  Dammit, Alistair, open this fucking door right now.”  Jasper remained quiet, sitting at attention by her side.  

She heard the thumping stop and the main door to the building open at almost the same time.  She glanced over to see Morrigan strolling in, shopping bag in hand.  Wonderful - someone _else_ to see her be made a fool of, with tears stinging her eyes and everything.  Regan instantly wished she hadn’t spoken so fondly of him the last time the two women had gotten together.  She gave her upstairs neighbor a half smile while trying to discretely wipe away tears and brought her fist up to bang on the door again when it opened and an arm blocked her swing.

“Regan?  What’s the matter?”  Alistair looked confused when he found a very hurt-looking, angry, teary-eyed young woman in front of him.  When he’d heard her voice through his door, he hadn’t recognized it; he’d never heard her curse like that, never heard her sound so furious.  His mind raced, trying to think of what he _might_ have done to make her angry, and came up with nothing.  And to see her like this … he’d _never_ seen that expression on her face … ever.  It didn’t help that Jasper was now eyeing him with what might be considered barely concealed contempt on a human.

She couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere but his face.  Maker, if she’d interrupted _that_ , she certainly didn’t want a glimpse of … well, she might have, honestly, but not _this_ way.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”  Her voice cracked before the last word and she forced herself to take a breath.  “Never mind, not important; just … you and your … your … girlfriend … need to keep it down.  I can hear you two … _fucking_ … everywhere in my apartment.”  Her vocabulary failed her on _that_ word – fucking.  She rarely used it, preferring more colorful phrases, but could come up with absolutely nothing.  

“My … what?”  Alistair glanced over at Morrigan, confused.  Their upstairs neighbor at least had the decency to look like she wasn’t _totally_ enjoying the scene when she shrugged.  “Regan, I thought … we might be ….  I mean, I thought maybe you would consider ….”  He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair.  “I’m not … sleeping with anyone, Regan.  And I guess … I wouldn’t say I had a … a _girlfriend_ … right now.”  He risked another glance over at Morrigan, eyes actually nearly begging her for help.

“If he was busy fucking someone, as you so eloquently put it, Regan, they couldn’t have been enjoying it much.”  She looked him over, taking in the tucked-in, unrumpled shirt, jeans and sneakers.  “He is still fully dressed, and while I will not comment on his fashion choices, it is not in the ‘I have to throw some clothes on fast so we don’t get caught’ way.”

“Look at me, Regan … please?”  Alistair rested his hands on her shoulders, wishing she would look at him … actually _look_ at him.  He didn’t know what she’d heard; he’d been playing a video game with his headphones on and only just barely heard her shouting and knocking.  But if she’d heard something that made her think he was sleeping with someone … that she thought he wanted _anyone_ but her ….  Maker, that thought almost made him physically ill.  “You can go look around if you want; there’s no one else here, I promise.”

Just then, the moaning started again and Regan snapped out of whatever trance had held her there, staring through him.  Her eyes darted down, noticing his clothes.  Morrigan was right; they didn’t look like they were thrown on in a hurry.  She could make out the sounds of a video game in between the noises that had prompted her little journey to his door and turned bright red.  “That’s not … you’re not … it isn’t coming from ….”  She hid her face in her hands and slumped against the door frame, slipping free from his hands.  “Andraste’s flaming knickers … I can’t believe ….  Wait, if that _isn’t_ you … and it _obviously_ isn’t me, or Morrigan, who … is ….”  

“Oh, Maker, please tell me that’s not ….”

“It _couldn’t_ be ….”  

“I think I might be sick.”

“Alistair, that’s rude; that is … _might be_ … Morrigan’s mother we’re ….”  Regan glanced at Morrigan and tried to smile reassuringly.  “No offense meant, but I _really_ kind of hope it’s _not_ her we’re hearing.”

Morrigan groaned as she headed for the stairs.  “As do I.  I may have to go run more errands if it is.”

“If it is what?”  

Three pairs of eyes turned toward the back entrance to the hall and stared.  Flemeth came walking in, leaning only barely on her cane with a curious look on her face.  She held a small plastic bag on one arm and her purse over her shoulder.  “Regan, dear … are you alright?  You look flushed.”  Her gaze moved quickly to Alistair.  “And you, young man … you look a little green.  Morrigan, dear girl, if these two are ill … you might wish to step back.”

Morrigan recovered first, shaking her head.  “They are not ill, mother.  We were merely contemplating the horror that would be felt if the cause of the … exertions we have been hearing were caused by you.”  She knew Regan and Alistair were staring at her now, stunned she’d mention _that_ topic of conversation, but Flemeth seemed unperturbed.

“Ah, if I were but a few years younger,” the older woman laughed.  She glanced up to the second level and sighs.  “I believe it is just the new tenants.  They must not be aware of how sound carries in this building.”  She chuckled softly before turning to head for the stairs.  “Come, Morrigan.  I believe we have some work to do in the kitchen.”

“Yes, mother.”

When the two women had disappeared into their apartment, Regan started for her door.  “I … I’m sorry for bothering you,” she murmured, unable to even look at him.  Maker, she’d made a bloody fool of herself; she’d never be able to leave her apartment again.  She’d just throw on her headphones to drown out the banging … if it started up again.  Apparently while they had been talking, silence had returned to the upstairs apartment.  

“Wait, don’t go.”  Alistair reached out, barely brushing his fingers against her shoulder.  He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, or why she had assumed the noise had been from him … other than the fact that it was apparently coming from the apartment just above his.  But he hated seeing her so … well, so like this.  When she froze, and Jasper didn’t actively try to stop him, he reached out, wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest.  “Didn’t I tell you that you’d never be a bother to me?”

“Even when I’m banging on your door for what ends up being no good reason?”

“Especially then,” he laughed, kissing her hair.  “Why were you so … angry?  And why in the Maker’s name did you think I had a girlfriend?”  

“I … um, well … who else would you have been ….”  She brought a hand up, covered her face and tried not to say something that would make her look stupid … stupider than she already felt.  “Those noises are not the kind normally made by oneself … the moaning, _maybe_ , but not the headboard banging.”

“Alright; I see your point.  But you … sounded so ….”  He paused as a likely reason struck him.  “Maker’s breath, were you _jealous_?”  It made sense.  If he’d heard _that_ coming from her apartment, especially after everything that had gone on between them, he’d have been hurt … probably felt angry … _definitely_ jealous, and probably a little betrayed.  But … did that mean that maybe … she might be interested in ….

“What?  No!  I wasn’t … of _course_ I’m not jealous!  I don’t know what you’re going on about.”  Regan sputtered for a minute, floundering as she tried to deny _exactly_ what she had been, whether she wanted to admit it or not.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  I was … just … upset about the … idea that our … Friday ritual would end up cancelled; that’s all.”

“Uh huh.”  He couldn’t stop grinning, glad he could keep his face buried in her hair for one more moment.  Maker, she’d been _jealous_.  She really had been.  He was about to make a comment, some attempt at a lighthearted joke when the door upstairs opened and out walked a blonde man and a woman with auburn hair, both wearing what looked like police uniforms.

“I’ll probably be home late.  Don’t wait up for me, dear heart.”

“Ten bucks says I’ll get home after you.  I’m on the late shift and we’ve been short staffed for ages.”

“Ugh.  When is that hospital going to hire more security guards?”

“Probably when they stop worrying about budget cuts.  Josie says - ….   _RC_?”

“Maker’s _ass!_   You’re _kidding_ me.  RT, _you_ moved in upstairs?”

“Miss Cousland?  I _thought_ this building looked familiar.  How’s the arm?”

“Officer Rutherford?!  Oh, it’s healing well; there’s barely any pain anymore.  Thank you for ask- ….”

“You two know each other?”

“Yes, he was th- ….”

“Alistair, is that you?”

“Wait … Rutherford?  Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me; Cullen?”

“Woof!”

              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No … too slow; not quite happy enough for a wedding reception.”  She pressed the button to skip ahead to the next song on her MP3 player, glancing down at the short list she’d started.  It’d been almost a week since Dairren had asked her to come up with some songs for the DJs to play during the reception, and with everything else that had gone on, music had been the last thing on her mind.  But a brief message from Dairren asking about her progress got her moving again.  

She closed her eyes, listened to the opening chords of the next song and smiled.  It was supposed to be yet another power ballad, but the shuffle feature must have been on and something much more upbeat kicked in.  One of her favorite songs, the music always made her feel better.  She couldn’t help herself; she started singing, moving around the room as she cleaned.  Alistair was due over soon … if he’d forgiven her for the stupidity five days ago.  “ _You might stop a hurricane; might even stop the drivin’ rain …._ ”

Alistair tentatively knocked on her door, extra-large pizza box balanced precariously in one hand.  They’d barely spoken since the _huge_ misunderstanding involving the upstairs neighbors, and despite her text that she was still looking forward to their Friday ritual, he wasn’t sure if she was just humoring him.  He knocked again, glancing down at the six pack of ale in front of him … and the flowers.  He hadn’t surprised her with flowers since her birthday, and the smile he remembered seeing that time had prompted him to see if he could do it again.  

“ _Baby, don’t treat me bad … this could be the best thing that you ever had …._ ”  She grabbed the broom from the kitchen, thinking she still had time to kill before Alistair arrived.  She’d managed to find a couple more songs that would be good for the reception, but was having too much fun just listening to songs, dancing around and singing to stop.  

He sighed, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake.  With still no answer, and the pizza box starting to feel a little _too_ warm, he pulled the spare key from his pocket and unlocked her door.  “Regan?” he called out carefully.  “Jasper?  It’s just me … Alistair.”  He peeked in, saw Jasper looking over at him from the dog bed and smiled.  At least the mabari wasn’t mad at him.  He was about to call out again when he saw movement down the hall.  He set the pizza and drinks down on the table and held the flowers behind his back as he leaned on the chair, watching her move … hips swaying, head bobbing up and down with whatever music was playing.  

“ _If you say that you are mine … I’ll be here til the end of time.  So, you got to let me know … should I stay or should I go …?_ ”  She danced her way back toward the main room, singing along with yet another song.  She figured she had another ten … fifteen minutes before Alistair arrived, so she wasn’t in a huge hurry to shut off the music.

He listened to her sing for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from her dancing.  He wanted to join her, even if he couldn’t hear the music.  But he didn’t, unsure if his presence would be welcome.  Alistair cleared his throat as she got close, smiling nervously when she jumped and ripped the headphones from her ears.  “Stay,” he answered with a smile.  “You should … definitely ... stay.”

“Alistair!”  She turned red, casting a quick glance down at her clothes to make sure she wasn’t totally covered in dirt.  How long had he been there?  How much had he seen?  Maker’s ass, why did she keep making a fool of herself in front of him?  “I … um, I was trying to clean up before you got here?”

“Are you sure?  That sounded kind of like a question to me.”

She laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “No … sort of?  I was _supposed_ to be finding songs to give to Dairren’s DJ for the reception, but my player decided I needed to hear other things and … well, I got distracted.”  She shoved the broom into the closet then ran to wrap her arms around him.  As he wrapped one arm around her, she closed her eyes and smiled.  “Maker, I _missed_ this.  I am so so sorry about ….”

“Hey ... hey, it’s OK.”  He kissed her hair and squeezed before pulling back a little.  “I missed it … _you_ , too.”  He brought the flowers around so she could see and smiled nervously.  “I … um, I got you a little something?”  His heart gave a little flutter as he watched her break into a huge grin, eyes darting from the flowers to him and back again.  Was it his imagination, or did he see the tiniest bit of a tear forming in her eye?

“They’re beautiful, Alistair.”  She tentatively took the small bouquet from him and motioned toward the sofa.  “Grab a seat.  I’ll put these in water, and then we can eat and watch movies to our hearts content.”  She waited until she’d turned and headed for the kitchen to bury her nose in the flowers, inhaling deeply while trying to figure out just _why_ he’d brought her flowers.  “So … what’s the occasion, anyway?”

He waited until she came back in the room before answering, wanting to see her face.  “I wanted to see you smile?”  He wasn’t disappointed.  The grin came back, wider than before; this time it was joined by rosy cheeks that made him want to lean in and brush soft kisses against them.  But he held back.  “This week’s been kind of … rough, and I … um, I just wanted to make sure you knew that … I, um … well, that is ….”  He couldn’t think of how to say what he wanted without sounding like an idiot, floundering until he decided to change the subject.  “Why don’t I help you go through and pick out some songs while we eat?”

She agreed, bringing her MP3 player over to the table while Alistair disappeared into the kitchen for plates.  When he returned, they got settled side by side, each wearing an ear bud connected to the player.  She advanced to the next song and let it play for a few seconds before he shook his head.

“Too dark for a wedding.”

The next two songs were skipped as well.  

“Wait … here’s one that might be good.”  He let the intro play and when the words kicked in, he sang along softly.   “ _Look into my eyes … and you will see … what you mean to me.  Search your heart … search your soul … and when you find me there, you’ll search no more …._ ”  He glanced over at her and smiled, feeling his cheeks grow a little warm under  her gaze as he sang along with the song.  “ _Don’t tell me it’s not worth fighting for.  I can’t help it; there’s nothing I want more … Everything I do, I do it for you._ ”

It took Regan a moment to find her voice, finding herself lost listening to him singing along.  She coughed, cleared her throat and nodded.  “Yeah, that’s … that’s a good one.”  She added the name of the song and the artist to her list while Alistair advanced through a couple inappropriate songs.  “Wait … stop; this one might work.”  She listened through the first verse, singing along once the refrain hit.  “ _With you I never wonder … will you be there for me?  With you I never wonder … you’re the right one for me.  I finally found the love … of a lifetime.  A love to last my whole life through …_.”

Alistair couldn’t stop watching her lips as she sang in a soft almost-whisper.  He waited until the song was over before agreeing that it would be a good choice for the reception.  “I … think you should sing that one if we … if you ever make it back to … um, to karaoke.”  He rubbed the back of his neck and watched her out of the corner of his eye while skipping the next few songs.  

“You say that like you wouldn’t be there.”

“I, um … well, I didn’t want to assume ….”  He paused on another song, smiling at the lyrics.  “This one would be perfect.”  He stopped talking to let the song play a while before picking up midway.  “ _Then I noticed you there.  You were my angel sent from my despair … I know that you are the lady who cares … Whoa, yeah yeah ….  I wanna spend my life with you … yeah yeah …. I wanna spend my life with you._ ”  

Halfway through, he heard her voice chime in and couldn’t stop himself from looking over.  His breath hitched when he caught her eye, noticed the smile on her face and the color rising to her cheeks.  “ _Woah, yeah yeah … I wanna spend my life with you … yeah yeah … I wanna spend my life with you … yeah yeah; only with you baby!_ ”

The pair stopped singing, Regan’s voice trailing off just a couple seconds before Alistair’s.  She looked away, focusing far more on writing the song and artist than was needed.  Maker, her stomach was knotting up.  Why in the void was she getting butterflies?

Alistair found a few more romantic power ballad-y songs, making a concentrated effort not to sing every one.  His heart was beating a mile a minute.  Their heads … their faces … their _lips_ had been so close together in that moment; it would have taken almost no effort to close the distance.  He’d thought about it too; he’d seriously considered it.  But he just didn’t know how she’d react … or how Jasper would.  The mabari had been so quiet since he’d arrived, he’d almost forgotten about him.  And then she’d looked away.  

“You … you’re pretty good at this.”  Regan broke the silence with a hesitant smile, looking down at the list that had more than quadrupled in size since he’d started helping her.  “I didn’t know you were such a closet romantic.”

“Ah, well, I … um, I’ve been thinking about woo-ing a lot, lately,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head nervously.  Should he say more?  Did she know?  Could she figure out …?

“Oh.”  Her voice was soft, almost hard to hear as she looked away.  “Special girl in mind … or guy, I suppose?  I guess I really shouldn’t assume.”

He glanced over at the flowers, then back at her.  Taking a breath, he reached out, brushed his fingertips across the back of her hand before letting it fall to the table next to hers.  “Maybe.”  He swallowed, licked his lips and tried to build up his courage.  “I just … I’m not entirely sure how she feels, I guess.  I’m not even sure if we’ve even been out on a real date yet … what _she_ would consider a real date, anyway.”

She watched his fingers move, fought a shiver as they tickled across her skin.  “What about you?  Have you been on what _you’d_ consider a date?”  More butterflies … she tried to still her insides, wondering who he was talking about.

“I … maybe?  I just ….”  Alistair sighed and chewed on his lip, trying to gather his thoughts.  “I’m not really ... _good_ at reading signs; Cailan’s always telling me that I am oblivious when a girl’s interested … Zevran too.”  He sighed softly, resisting the urge to flop back in his chair, hoping that just this once, he _wasn’t_ reading things wrong.  “We were getting along wonderfully, absolutely perfectly, really … and then almost a week ago there was this _huge_ misunderstanding, and I barely saw her and I … I don’t want to imagine my life without y- … her in it.  I just … don’t know if that’s what you … what _she_ wants.”

“Have … you asked her?”

He looked over at her, shifted his hand just enough to rest atop hers.  He took a breath, then another.  “I think … I just did?”

**Author's Note:**

> (note - I originally wasn’t sure if I wanted to end it where I did, or earlier and carry the last bit over to the next one. Obviously, at least for the moment, I decided to leave it be. We’ll see if it stays that way)


End file.
